


011 - Cuddling

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Mini Fic, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 13:40:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17468639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompt “would you pls write about cuddling with van and maybe he being romantic? Thxx”





	011 - Cuddling

On Monday there was a bunch of flowers waiting on your desk at work. The little foxgloves were purple, and you wondered if he had remembered they were your favourite and asked to have them in there, or if it was a happy coincidence. He said he knew, but couldn't recall the name of them. "Something about cat's clothes?"

On Tuesday four heart shaped balloons were tied to your desk chair. At lunch you burst one and sucked up the helium. He didn't have Snapchat, but you knew he was with Benji. You sent them a video of you singing Cocoon in a high pitched voice.

On Wednesday a silk box arrived at the time you usually had your first cup of tea. Inside were handmade chocolates that probably cost more than what you made in a week. They melted on your tongue and now cocoa would always remind you of him.

On Thursday there was a ridiculously oversized bear next to your desk. Everyone in the office took turns taking selfies with it. You made a collage of the photos and sent it to him. You knew that he liked to make people happy, and all those smiles would make his day.

On Friday your desk was covered in glitter and confetti, and you wondered who he roped into helping him. There was also a link in your inbox to a playlist he made that would help you survive the day. It ended with Friday I'm in Love and you wanted to die.

When you opened the door to your flat, he was nowhere to be found. What was there though, were thousands of fairy lights. They twinkled from their pretty strings as they crisscrossed patterns across the ceiling. There was a fort built in the middle of the room with sheets and pillows. He'd used twine to secure it, and had wrapped more lights along that. You could see that from in the fort you'd be able to see the television; next to which was a stack of your favourite films. Big Fish sat on top of the pile. 

You had brought home all the gifts, so you slowly put them away waiting for him to come back from wherever he was. The flowers stood proudly on the breakfast bar in the only vase you owned. There was only one balloon left, and it seemed appropriate to tie to the fort. The chocolates went into the fridge, and the jar you brushed the confetti and glitter into went on your bedside table. You changed into clean pyjama shorts and one of Van’s old tshirts. You paced for a few more minutes before the front door opened.

"Babe!" he said happily. He was carrying a large paper takeout bag. You knew what it was by smell alone: Thai from your favourite place. He threw you a small plastic bag. Fortune cookies! He put the paper bag on the bench and you walked to each other. Hugging him always felt like home. You buried your face into the space between his shoulder and neck. You hadn't seen him since the previous weekend; he’d been doing press around the country. You held each other for a long time. Then, you smelt the Thai again.

He instructed you to climb into the fort, which you did. Inside you ate and he told you about the interviews and all the weird shit that happened when you put all the guys in confined spaces together. You opened the fortune cookies for dessert. Your first read "Love is like sweet nectarine, good to the last drop," which was cute but also troubling on account of your dislike for nectarines. His said "All the effort you are making will ultimately pay off," which you both took as a Catfish reference.

After the fort was free from dishes and fortune cookie wrappers (the many fortunes themselves were safety pinned to the fort ceiling), you snuggled in for the night. You spooned together. He had one arm under you, and the other was free to roam your body. Lightly he traced patterns across your skin, and across the material of your pyjamas. It was loving and innocent.

The world had always been an unsure place, and you were not naïve enough to think it would get any better. There was doom on the news and gloom on the streets. But, you had Van. You had the grand gestures of love, the small touches of affection, the secret songs he'd write you that nobody knew about, the sleepy days, the high nights, all of it. And that would always be enough, more than enough. Van was always going to be everything.


End file.
